


get better soon

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brain Surgery, Cancer, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 21:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “You have to be nice to me,” Cas says, very solemnly. “I have a brain tumor.”“You have to be nice to me,” Dean says, leaning down to give him a quick kiss, “because I know how to make pancakes.”





	get better soon

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com%22) and [shealynn88](http://shealynn88.tumblr.com%22)
> 
> seriously, no one dies. 
> 
> ps: cas's cat is based on jemariel's [simon,](https://66.media.tumblr.com/6eeffe28596aaf74a77c173aac429b54/tumblr_inline_ozc243xXy81qamv9i_1280.jpg) who is my favorite cat i've never met.

Date three is going just as well as the first two, which is to say it’s the best date Dean’s ever had. Cas is successful, Sammy levels of smart, handsome, and funny in a dry way that took Dean a minute to catch on to, and he’s  _ way _ out of Dean’s league. 

The first two dates were your standard dinner and lingering over coffee, but this time Cas brought a bottle of pisco from his last trip to Peru to Dean’s and helped him cook. They’re a little warm after a couple of drinks, drifting closer on the couch while It’s Always Sunny plays on the tv. Dean thinks he’s going to get a kiss tonight, a real one, if he works up the nerve. 

“Realizing that Dennis is a sociopath made me—” Cas starts, then goes silent. 

Dean looks over as Cas slumps against the back of the couch. “You ok?”

And then the date starts going very, very badly, because Cas stiffens before starting to jerk without rhyme or reason, falling to his side. 

“Cas? Cas?!” 

No response, except his foot flails out and kicks Dean in the shin. Dean’s hands shake as he fumbles for his phone and dials 911. “My friend is having a seizure, I think — yeah, he’s on his side — I don’t know — we don’t know each other that well — it stopped now, but he’s — Cas? Cas?” Dean’s afraid to touch him, but reaches to squeeze his hand anyway. “He’s kinda — I think he might be waking up. Sweetheart, the ambulance will be here soon, ok?” 

Cas blinks. Licks his lips. The emergency operator tells Dean to stay on the line and the EMTs are on the way, but Dean is only half listening, hitting his knees in front of the couch to stroke Cas’s sweaty hair away from his forehead. 

“Hello,” Cas says, hoarse. 

“Hey, you with me now? Just relax. You’re ok.” 

“Did I pass out?” Cas’s eyes blink heavy, and Dean squeezes his hand again to keep him conscious. 

“I think you had a seizure, but —” 

There’s a sharp knock on the door. The hospital is just down the road, but Dean still didn’t expect such a quick response. 

A team of EMTs swarm in and Dean tries not to hover as they check Cas over, ask questions, load him on to a stretcher, load him in the ambulance. They don’t wait for Dean to follow in the Impala.

When Dean catches up in the emergency wing of the hospital, the nurse at the front desk gestures towards Cas’s curtain-created room, the last one in a row of empties. 

Cas is pale and looks surprised to see Dean. “Dean?” 

“Yeah, are you — what’s going on?” 

“It seems I had a seizure. They’re going to run some tests.” Cas pauses. “You don’t have to be here.” 

Dean looks down. “I don’t want you to be alone. But if there’s someone I can call…?” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. “Everything is a little muddled. There’s not anyone, but I suspect this will be a pretty boring few hours before they tell me I’m too stressed and need to sleep more.” 

“Sleep when we’re dead, right?” Cas smiles. Dean half-smiles back. “I bet we can make it less boring with both of us.” 

“Are you propositioning me?” 

“No! No,” Dean says, cheeks flaming. “We could watch something on my phone. Or whatever. That’s what we were doing anyway.” 

Cas scoots to the side and gestures at the empty half of the rickety triage bed. They barely fit smashed together, and Cas has to tuck his arm under Dean’s, hooking them at the elbow. It’s closer than they were before on the couch and Dean has to remind himself sternly that this is a serious situation. The wrong time for butterflies in his stomach. 

“Have I mentioned you’re really cute?” Cas says. 

Dean grins over at him. “I think you mean ‘ruggedly handsome.’”

“Sure, you’re that, too. But also very c—” 

The curtain swings back and a nurse comes in, looking at the tablet in his hands. “Mr. Novak, how are you feeling?” 

It feels wrong to listen to Cas’s answer. Moments between provider and patient should be private, not with a near-stranger hanging around. But Dean sees Cas’s calm crack when the nurse leaves again, a pinch of fear on his mouth, and there’s no way he’s doing so much as stepping out of the room to pee and leaving Cas alone.

Cas squeezes his knee. “I apologize for ruining our date.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Dean says. “I’m afraid of heights, but one time this girl took me rockclimbing. And this other time, this guy…” 

Cas doesn’t have quite so many bad dating stories, but they drum up enough to pass the time until a doctor comes through, and then a nurse to draw eight — eight! — vials of blood while Dean covers his eyes. “You don’t have to be here,” Cas says. 

“Of course I do, man.” Somehow Dean is holding Cas’s other hand and he squeezes it. “I just don’t have to _ look.”  _

“You caught yourself a good man,” the nurse says to Cas. Cas doesn’t argue and Dean is glad his blush is hidden under his hand. “All done. Someone will be down to collect you for the MRI in awhile.”

_ Awhile  _ ends up sooner than Dean would’ve expected, though the emergency department is pretty quiet. Everyone must take their crying kids to the urgent care clinic across the street. 

Dean and Cas have to separate during the scan, and Dean paces back and forth in the hall while he waits. They wheel Cas out and back to the same curtain room they’ve been occupying all evening, and Cas looks scared. 

When they’re alone, Cas looks over at Dean and says quietly, “The tech made a noise. A noise like — I have something to worry about.” 

“Stress and lack of sleep, like you said,” Dean says, leaning over to kiss Cas’s temple. The urge comes out of nowhere and Cas doesn’t shy away. “So they’ll discharge you, and I’ll stop at Walgreens and buy fizzy bath bubbles or whatever and wash your hair and put you to bed. Good as new.” 

“Ah,” Cas says, smiling. “Now you’re propositioning me.” 

“Shut up and move over,” Dean says, shoving his way into the crappy bed. The crappy chair is probably more comfortable, if he didn’t account for Cas’s presence. “Apparently someone needs to take care of you.” 

Cas opens his arm and Dean settles into his hold, warm and strong. It’s late and they talk less, yawn more.

A doctor they haven’t met yet joins them, a tablet in his hands. “Mr. Novak, I’m Dr. Shepherd. I’ll give you the good news first: it’s operable. The bad news,” he says, flipping the tablet to show them a scan of Cas’s brain and circling a solid white spot, “it’s a tumor. A grade two oligodendroglioma.” 

“It’s huge!” Dean says. 

“It is sizeable, but we expect to be able to remove 90% of it, followed by a radiation and chemotherapy treatment cyles to eradicate the rest.” 

Cas blinks several times and says blankly, “A brain tumor.” 

“Yes. Your tumor is benign and slow-growing, but because of its size and the seizure, we shouldn’t wait to operate. We’ll be taking you up to prep shortly.” 

“Wait a second,” Dean says. “Are you talking about brain surgery? Right now?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’re going to shave my head,” Cas says, fingers tapping on his thigh. 

“Yes.” 

“You’ll still be hot,” Dean says. He takes Cas’s hand to stop the nervous tapping and squeezes. “And I’ll be waiting.” 

Dean listens carefully when the doctor describes what’s going to happen, because Cas seems like he’s not focusing at all. He keeps glancing at the tablet Dr. Shepherd is holding, though the scan isn’t visible anymore. Dean watches enough Dr. Sexy that nothing about the actual surgery or potential post-op symptoms, the care Cas may need, really surprises him. 

Cas signs the consent form and the doctor gives Dean directions to the correct waiting room. The nurse makes Cas sit in a wheelchair again to take him up to prep, but before she wheels him away, Dean cradles Cas’s face and leans down to kiss him. 

It’s not like the kiss he’d earlier imagined for the night. It’s not flashy or hot, no hands desperate to touch. It’s better in some ways, and Cas gives him a dazed smile when Dean stands up straight again. 

“Break a leg,” Dean says.

“I sure hope not.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Cas nods and waves, and away he goes. 

The sludge coming out of the quarter coffee machine can barely be called liquid, much less coffee, but it’s the middle of the night and Dean needs the caffeine. Needs something to do with his hands, too, while he paces.

There’s only one other person in this waiting room, a woman sleeping with her head against the wall, a sweater folded up as a makeshift pillow. She doesn’t seem to be disturbed by Dean’s five steps forward and five steps back. 

He drinks the coffee fast because it’s nasty, then gets another cup. He keeps checking the time on his phone — the doctor said it would be quick, but every minute is torture. It occurs to him that his worry for Cas may outweigh the actuality of their relationship. Two long dates, and then a shorter one ending in a long stay in the ER. But they’d talked for hours and Dean kept Cas smiling even as his nervousness increased. 

Dean knows things about Cas now, the kind of things it usually takes awhile to get out when you start dating someone. Childhood antics, family dramas, relationship history, opinions on a variety of authors, past embarrassments. Dean knows for sure what kind of man Cas is, and he’s absolutely smitten with what he knows. 

Dr. Shepherd himself delivers the news: surgery went well, they removed more of the tumor than they thought they could initially, Cas is in recovery but a nurse will let Dean know when he’s moved to a room and Dean can visit. 

Dean’s not much of a crier, but he’s so relieved he feels a sob welling in his chest. He swallows it down and says, rough, “Thank you.” 

He finally sits, thumbing absently through the apps on his phone. He looks at his text thread with Cas, their last exchange:

**Cas: ** I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. 

**Dean: ** Yeah, me too :) 

Dean had agonized over his response.  _ Looking forward to  _ hardly covered how he felt, some almost nauseating mixture of excitement and anxiety and lust and unsteadiness. He wasn’t the kind of person to let his feelings spin out of control like this with someone. He played it cool, took it slow with the emotional stuff. He’s been in love more than once, but it took awhile to get there, and he didn’t expect Cas to be any different. 

The nurse who fetches Dean looks as tired as he feels. She leads him through the maze of hospital hallways with ease before leading him into Cas’s single room, number 212. 

Cas’s head is wrapped in a white bandage and he’s blinking blearily, looking pale against the sheets. Dean rushes to him, but stops short of touching him, not sure if that’s allowed. 

“Hey, baby,” Dean says. 

Cas blinks at him. 

“He’s still pretty out of it from the anesthesia and pain meds,” the nurse assures Dean. “It’s to be expected. You can touch him, but be gentle.” 

Dean pulls the chair closer to Cas’s bed and takes his hand. “It’s good to see you,” Dean says. “I’m trying to imagine your bald head under there but can’t quite manage it.” 

Cas cracks a smile, then his eyes drift closed. 

Nurses check in regularly, several times an hour for awhile after the surgery. Dean tries to sleep a little, scrunched in the hospital room chair, but only manages to snatch a couple minutes of dozing here and there. Cas is coherent during brief waking periods, and then the painkillers are dosed and he goes back to sleep. 

Dean watches the sun come up over the hills in the distance, rubbing absently at the crick in his neck. The night nurse comes by at the end of her shift and gives Dean a frown. “The cafeteria just opened. Get yourself some food; nothing is going to change here.” 

Cas’s face is still and soft in sleep, stubble shadowing his jaw. Dean hates the way people look in the hospital, like death is just around the corner, waiting. Maybe if his mom hadn’t died alone, he wouldn’t be so afraid to step away. 

Dean brings Cas’s hand up to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll be right back, ok?” he says, even knowing Cas can’t hear him. 

The cafeteria is an elevator ride and an endless hallway away. Despite the signage, Dean keeps getting turned around, his nervousness increasing every moment away from Cas’s room. Eventually he finds it. It’s pretty empty at this time of the day, just some weary loved ones nibbling at toast. 

Dean piles his plate with food on auto-pilot, only realizing too late that there’s no way he could eat that much with worry still gnawing at his gut. Still, he takes it through the maze of hallways and up to Cas’s floor. 

Cas is awake, head turned to look out the window at the summer blue sky. 

“Hey,” Dean says, and Cas’s head jerks towards him, startled but a smile growing on his face all the same. 

“You’re here,” Cas says. “Is that bacon?” 

“Uh. Shit. I don’t know if you can eat this.” 

Cas sighs like this is the worst news he’s ever heard and looks down at his hand. “Do these doctors even know what they’re doing?” 

“I hope so,” Dean says, setting his plate of food out of Cas’s sight for later. “They were diggin’ around in your brain last night.” 

“Well,” Cas says, sighing again. “This doesn’t belong here.” He takes the little clip off his finger — pulse oximeter, Dean thinks — and puts it on the tip of his nose instead, eyes crossing to try to see it. His voice comes out a little funny when he says, “I could do this job.” 

“Cas, I don’t think you should —” Dean says as a machine starts beeping angrily. 

A nurse appears. A new one, and he just shakes his head like he sees this all the time and puts the clip back on Cas’s finger. “Don’t touch the equipment.” 

Cas pouts and reaches for it as soon as the nurse is gone, but Dean grabs his hand instead. “Babe, you heard him. Don’t mess with the equipment.” 

“I’ll mess with  _ your  _ equipment,” Cas grumbles. 

“The hospital isn’t the right place for that, either. Unless we’re in an episode of Dr. Sexy, then I think it’s allowed.” 

“You have terrible taste in tv.” 

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” 

“I believe my testicles are swollen.” 

Dean snorts, tries to cough a laugh back down his throat, chokes on it. “Is that so?” 

“Look,” Cas says, pulling at the sheet and then his hospital gown. “It’s very uncomfortable.” 

“I don’t know what they usually look like.” Dean tugs the sheet to cover Cas again. “But we can ask a nurse.” 

“Dean,” Cas says urgently. “I have a cat. Simon.” 

“Yeah, you showed me a picture last night, and said he would be ok on his own for a day or two.” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Dean squeezes Cas’s hand and Cas smiles at him, a little glassy. “I might go back to sleep.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Ask the nurse about my testicles.” 

“Ok, I will.” 

“Eat your breakfast.” 

Cas loses the battle to keep his eyes open. Dean eats cold eggs and watches the traveling lines of Cas’s heartbeats. 

The oncologist isn’t slicky-smooth like the neurologist and Dean thinks he likes that better. Dr. Swender walks them through treatment plans and outcomes, and though Cas’s features are calm, he clenches Dean’s hand the whole time. 

“Cas, you can do this,” Dean says as soon as the doctor leaves. “It’s going to suck, but you can do it.” 

“I suppose we’re about to find out if I can or not.” 

Dean kisses the back of his hand. “That’s the spirit.” 

There’s a rap on the door frame, and then a woman in a leather jacket walks in carrying a bouquet of flowers big enough to nearly cover her face. “Oh, no,” Cas says under his breath. 

“Clarence! You live!” 

“Hello, Meg.” Cas introduces Dean and Meg to each other. She arches an eyebrow and gives Dean an appreciative look. He hates those kind of looks. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I stay a minute. I’m paid hourly and I’m going to milk this trip dry.” 

“Stick it to the man,” Dean says. 

Meg flops into the chair on the other side of Cas’s bed. “They weren’t supposed to tell us, but they fuckin’ told us that you had brain surgery. Should I be worried? You’re the only person I like in that hellhole.” 

“I’m going to be on medical leave for awhile, but I’ll be fine.” 

“How ‘fine’?” 

“He’ll live to sit in a rocking chair on a back porch watching his grandkids play in the yard,” Dean says. 

“I’m not having kids,” Cas says. 

“Cool,” Meg says. “Do you need anything? Casserole? Plants watered?” 

“My cat,” Cas says. “He has an automatic feeder, but sometimes it doesn’t work. And the litter box.” 

“Cats love me. You got a key?” 

“The garage code is 3042.” 

“All right, guess I better take care of that.” Meg stands, but before she leaves, she squeezes Cas’s leg and says, “You have my number if you need anything. Seriously.” 

Cas stares at the flowers after she leaves. There’s a lot of them, enough to make Dean’s nose itch with the smell, in bright colors. “It’s sad to say, but I believe she’s my closest friend in this city.” 

“You’ve got to start somewhere,” Dean says. His back and neck are really starting to hurt, but he stays in the chair next to Cas. Where he can hold his hand, where Cas can play with his fingers absently sometimes. 

“This feels cruel to say because I do enjoy her, but I was thinking that might be you instead someday.” 

“Well, I certainly  _ enjoy  _ you, too,” Dean says. “Though you’ll have to co-rule with my other best friend, who will not allow herself to be dethroned. Don’t cross her.” 

“She sounds lovely.” 

“She is.” Dean wonders, after all the conversations about family they had the night before, how he never mentioned Charlie. “She’s going to love you. She’s a huge weird nerd.” 

“I don’t just  _ enjoy _ you. Even if you walked out right now, I — I don’t know how I could express my appreciation for the time you’ve spent. My brother’s flying in tomorrow, but you — you were here this whole time. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Dean says. “I don’t get to the third date with a really great guy without being willing to spend a week in the hospital with him.” 

Cas smiles. “You’re a really great guy, too.” 

They’re in the middle of an episode of Brooklyn 99 — Dean was hesitant, but Cas just had his brain sliced up, so it seems as good a time as any to indulge him — when Cas’s phone buzzes. “Gabe just landed.” 

Dean pauses the video. “I should jet, then.” 

“Oh,” Cas says, looking down. “Of course.” 

“Unless you want me to hang out.” 

“Will you? Just to warn you, Gabe can be difficult.” 

“That’s how older brothers are supposed to be. I’m an expert.” 

Cas grins. Dean is surprised at his lucidity, how quickly they’re reducing the drugs, like a monkey will hop on your back after just a few days of a norco drip. 

“Do you mind if I run home for a shower? Twenty minutes tops. I hate to leave but — gotta make a good impression, right?” 

“Wish I could join you,” Cas says, rubbing at the stubble at his jaw. “I feel disgusting.” 

“We agreed, no propositioning while in the hospital,” Dean says with a cheeky smile. 

Cas rolls his eyes and tries to hide his smile, but Dean still sees it in the way his eyes crinkle. “Bring me the rest of that pisco when you come back.” 

“Baby, I’m not getting you drunk when you just had brain surgery. I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Dean almost kisses Cas on the way out, but settles for squeezing his leg through the thin hospital blanket instead. 

Dean is fast, but apparently the driver was faster, because there’s two men in Cas’s room when he returns. Next to the flowers is a huge bouquet made of candy, some pieces already missing. 

“The man of the hour!” the shorter guys says, holding his hand out to Dean. “I’m Gabe.” 

Dean shakes, trying not to flinch under the intense scrutiny from both men. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you.” 

“Balthazar,” the other guy says. “Cassie’s most attractive ex.” 

Cas’s mouth tightens and Dean feels a momentary stab of jealousy. But Cas had talked about Balth, their attempt at dating before deciding they weren’t relationship-compatible. Cas was matter-of-fact, no trace of wistfulness in his voice. 

“How you doin’?” Dean says, directed at Cas. 

“Same as I was half an hour ago.” 

Dean leans down to kiss his cheek, then takes the same chair he’s barely moved from for twenty four hours. The change of clothes feels new, fresh, and he’s back to running on pure adrenaline and caffeine. 

“What do people do for fun around here?” Balthazar says. 

“I brought cards,” Dean says. “Do y’all know how to play hold ‘em?” 

Gabe’s smile turns sly. “Absolutely.” 

Cas wipes the floor with all of them, despite claiming he’s only played a few times before. They use Skittles from the candy bouquet as chips, but Gabe keeps eating them so in the end it’s difficult to say exactly how solidly Cas beats them. That’s probably the best for Dean’s ego. 

When Cas drops another ace-high full house, Balthazar throws his hands up, cards scattering. “You’ve got to be cheating.” 

“I have a brain tumor,” Cas says. “I deserve to win.” 

“Do you plan on lording that over everyone for the rest of your life to get what you want?” Gabe says. “Our mother taught you well.” 

Dean laughs and Cas fakes a pout. “I have a brain tumor and I’m starving, so someone should pick me up some dinner.” 

“Wow,” Dean says. “You’re going to be a nightmare. What do you want?” 

“They rented a car, so they can go,” Cas says, gesturing vaguely towards Gabe and Balth. “Pancakes. And bacon. Some of those potatoes, too.” 

There’s a cafe not far, and Gabe and Balth take their orders and head out, leaving behind the heavy stink of cologne. 

“I didn’t know Balthazar was coming,” Cas says. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, he’s cool. I hope I’m your most attractive not-ex, though.” 

“You’ll be my prettiest ex someday, I assure you.” 

Dean tosses his head back in a laugh, then leans over and — doesn’t kiss Cas. He doesn’t know when he decided he could be so presumptuous with touch, but Cas gives him a small, hopeful smile so he closes the distance. Cas’s lips are dry, but he’s warm and sweet. 

“I was trying to work up the nerve to kiss you,” Dean says. “Right before… you know.” 

Cas’s smile widens. “Me too, actually.”

“Anything else you’re workin’ up the nerve for? I want to be prepared,” Dean says, smirking.

“I don’t appreciate your implications, Dean Winchester.” 

“I guess since it was my place, I would’ve been the one to invite you to my bed.” He says it casually, and watches Cas’s cheeks flush. 

“I don’t think you should be trying to dirty talk me at the hospital.” 

“That wasn’t even dirty!” 

“Well,” Cas says, primly. “When you look like you do, anything can be dirty.” Dean laughs and finds his hand in Cas’s, holding firm. “I want you to go home and sleep tonight.” 

“Cas —” 

“This isn’t up for debate. I’m sure Gabe will stay tonight and you and I can talk tomorrow.” 

Dean signs, indignant. “I took the rest of the week off already, so I’ll be here first thing. With better breakfast than cafeteria food.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Charlie has a ton of games, I was thinking about picking some up to bring over here. Are you into that?” 

Cas smiles in a way that’s so affectionate, it makes Dean’s breath catch. “I like games a lot.” 

“She’s a game hoarder, so I’m sure I’ll find some good stuff.” 

“I hope they release me on Friday,” Cas says. “I’m tired of this bed and this room.” 

“It blows my mind that they’ll drill into your skull and then send you on your way in a few days,” Dean says, scowling. “But hey, speaking of. I went through this with my mom. Some people get really sick on chemo and radiation and you might need help.” 

Cas raises his eyebrows. 

“I mean — anything you need, man. I can work remotely when I’m not holding your hair back for you to puke, if you want.” 

Cas looks down at their hands clasped together. “You’re very kind. I suppose I would be willing to hold your hair back too.” 

“Let’s get a promise ring about it,” Dean says. 

“Let’s not.” 

Dean stays as late as Cas will allow and then sleeps fitfully.  _ I’m not going to drop dead overnight,  _ Cas said with a smile, but Dean dreams over and over that he finds an empty hospital bed when he returns. He wakes up gasping and checks his phone each time to make sure he didn’t miss a call from Gabe. 

He gives up when the sun rises and texts Gabe. 

**Dean: ** Let me know when Cas is up and I’ll bring donuts   
**Dean: ** Don’t want to interrupt his beauty sleep 

Dean fiddles with his work email, not really comprehending any of the words. He knows his team has it under control anyway, but he’s jittery and feels like he has to do  _ something  _ so he doesn’t shake out of his skin. 

**Cas: ** Good morning. :-) I saw you texted Gabe, but he’s still snoring. 

**Dean: ** Morning baby. Favorite donut and kolache? 

**Cas: ** Eclair and sausage cheese jalapeno 

**Dean: ** See you in 15 

**Cas: ** :-) 

The bandage covering Cas’s head is gone, just a single one stretched over the stitched-up cut across his skull. He looks weird without hair, somehow younger despite the exhaustion on his face. 

Cas winces like he thinks Dean will turn tail and run at this, even after everything else. Dean gives him a big grin and says, “Hey there, Vin Diesel.” 

Cas tilts his head to the size. “I don’t understand that —” 

“He’s bald. But you’re way better looking.” 

“Thank you,” Cas says, flushing. 

“Excuse me,” Gabe grouses from a cot in the corner. “Save the flirting for a reasonable time.” 

“I have donuts and kolaches.” 

Gabe squints one eye open. “What kind?” 

“A variety, but Mr. Brain Tumor gets first pick.” 

Dean hands the box over to Cas and sits in what feels like  _ his  _ chair in this room. Cas inspects the contents of the box solemnly and stuffs half a kolache in his mouth in one bite. “Oh my  _ god,”  _ he groans. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

“After hospital cafeteria food, I bet,” Dean says, snagging a chocolate frosted donut. “This is a damn good donut.” 

Cas passes the box of donuts over to Gabe, and they all munch in silence. A nurse comes to check in on Cas and takes an offered kolache with a  _ thanks, sweetie.  _

“Deano, can I chat with you for a second?” 

“Sure,” Dean says, and follows when Gabe gestures him out of the room. 

Once out of earshot of Cas, Gabe says, “What’s your plan here?” 

“As far as…?” 

“It seems like you’re thinking about sticking around and seeing him through this.” 

“Yeah, I was plannin’ on it.” 

“How long have you been together?” 

“Uh. Not long. But that doesn’t mean I’m not ready to — you know, be good to him.” 

Gabe crosses his arms, giving Dean a considering look. “I can stay, and I’m willing because he’s my baby bro and I love him.” 

“But you’d rather not.” 

Gabe shrugs. “I’m not good at caretaking, and Cas and I don’t always get along.” 

“Yeah, I get it. Go home, dude. I’ll take care of him.” 

Gabe claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Dean.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Dean says, “but I’m trying.” 

Dean heads over to Charlie’s to pick up some games. He wanted to give Cas some privacy with Gabe and Balthazar and he prays Cas won’t be hurt by the brief stay. He heads back to the hospital, a pile of games in his arms, after Gabe and Balthazar have left. 

Cas’s face lights up when Dean walks in. “I didn’t know when you’d be back.” 

“Here I am,” Dean says, setting the games on the table. 

Cas grabs his hand and tugs him down for a kiss. “What did Gabe say to you earlier?” 

“Big brother stuff. He just wanted to make sure you’ll be ok.”

“I’m so tired of this room,” Cas says.

“It sounds like you’re going to be released sooner than later,” Dean says, “so that’s something.” 

Cas’s eyes catch on the games. “You brought Fluxx! Let’s play.” 

Dean and Cas both sit on the bed, legs crossed to leave space for the game between them. Cas has a great poker face, except Dean keeps getting him to laugh. It feels good to know that Cas likes him and all of their shared smiles are full of potential. 

Somehow, after the game is put away, they end up kissing. Not  _ I’m scared for you  _ or  _ good to see you  _ kisses, but hot ones, Cas’s hand buried in Dean’s hair to hold him close. The kind of kissing Dean had been hoping for, back when he was nervous about his third date with an amazing guy. Back before he heard the word  _ prognosis  _ again. 

They both pull back, as if by silent agreement, before things go any further. Cas says, “I’m really glad you’re a good kisser. I really can’t abide a bad one.” 

“About that,” Dean says. He puts on an exaggerated grimace. “You’re not great. Our tongues should be battling.” 

“Battling?” Cas says, baffled. 

“Yeah, you know.” Dean wiggles his tongue at Cas as if to demonstrate, pleased when Cas breaks into laughter even as he pinches Dean’s hip in retribution. 

“That’s disgusting.” 

“Some people like it,” Dean says, leaning forward in the hopes of stealing another kiss. 

“No,” Cas says. “If we keep doing that, I’m going to pin you down and ravish you.” 

Dean licks his lips. “So you’re bossy in bed.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“I’m, uh, the opposite of bossy,” Dean says, willing his cheeks not to redden. “Not-bossy.” 

Cas arches an eyebrow. “Noted.” 

“Gentlemen,” one of the good nurses says as she walks in, exasperated. “This is not Dr. Sexy. There are no conjugal visits.” 

“We’re being good,” Dean says. “Scout’s honor.” 

“If you were ever a scout, I’ll eat my shoe.” 

Cas sits up so he can be poked and prodded, measurements noted, medication administered. After the nurse leaves, he squeezes Dean’s hand and says, “Go home tonight. You deserve a nice bed.” 

“Cas —” 

“The likelihood of me dropping dead is still very low. At least one of us should be comfortable.” 

“I’ll be back in the morning for Pandemic.” 

Cas runs his fingertips along the rough line of Dean’s jaw. “You’re a good man, Dean,” he says. Dean isn’t sure if anyone has ever said that about him before, and now twice in one day. 

There aren’t enough games or jokes or Reddit threads in the world to keep the cabin fever at bay. Dean feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, and he still gets to go home at night — he can’t imagine how Cas must be feeling. 

Before Cas is discharged, the oncologist comes by to deliver the chemo pills and give ridiculously detailed instructions that seem like overkill, but Dean takes notes all the same. If they don’t fuck this up, Cas might be fine. 

Maybe. 

“My house is a mess,” Cas says when the Impala pulls into his driveway.

“You weren’t expecting company,” Dean says. “Plus, I think we skipped past the part where we impress each other with our cleanliness.” 

Cas smiles over at him. “I suppose you’re right. Does that mean your place isn’t usually as clean as when I was there?” 

“I’m pleading the fifth,” Dean says. He grabs Cas’s hand, tugs him over for a kiss before they get out of the car.

Cas is a little unsteady on his feet but scowls when Dean makes a move to support him. “I’m fine.” 

“Maybe I was looking for an excuse to touch you.” 

Cas is turned away to unlock the door, but Dean can  _ feel  _ his eyes rolling. “You’re allowed to proposition me now, so you don’t need an excuse.” 

Simon must’ve heard Cas’s voice, because as soon as they’re in the doorway, a black and white cat is circling Cas’s ankles, meowing over and over plaintively. 

“Hello there, handsome,” Cas says, picking him up and burying his face in Simon’s fur. Simon seems to hug him around the neck and purrs so loud it can probably be heard down the block. “I missed you, darling.” 

“Should I leave you two alone?” 

“Yes. Simon is the true love of my life. However, I’m in desperate need of a shower and shave so you’ll have to cuddle him for the moment.” Before Dean can reply, Cas dumps the cat into his arms. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be quick.” 

“Do you need hel—” Dean cuts himself off abruptly at the stormy look in Cas’s eyes. “All right then. I’m just going to order some groceries.” 

Still, Dean keeps a sharp ear towards Cas’s room, just in case something happens. He thinks he hears the soft, low rumble of Cas singing in the shower, but it could just be Simon’s purrs. The cat stays mostly attached to his neck, even while he does a quick check in the kitchen for supplies and settles on the couch to order groceries. 

Cas comes out of the bedroom not too much later freshly shaved and with a fresh bandage on his head, but more importantly, something about him in charcoal-colored sweatpants and a soft tee makes Dean’s mouth go dry. 

“Uh,” Dean says. Coughs. “Hey.” 

“Simon likes you.” 

“Simon’s kind of a slut, apparently.” 

Cas grins but says, “People who call my cat a ‘slut’ aren’t allowed in my home.” 

“We’ve all been through that phase.” 

“Not all of us,” Cas says, sitting close enough that Dean can slide his free arm around his middle, tug him a little closer to kiss his cheek. 

“Are you a virgin, Castiel?” Dean says, laughing. 

Cas rolls his eyes but he goes tense under Dean’s hand. Dean’s laughter cuts off abruptly. “Wait, seriously? You said you were going to hold me down and ravish me.” 

“I have an imagination.” 

Dean slumps back against the couch. Simon’s claws dig in but he doesn’t notice. “Shit. I feel like an asshole about all the propositioning stuff. I was just messing around, there’s no rush.” 

“The rush is that I do want to ravish you,” Cas says, leaning closer. “I made it through three whole dates, one of which was  _ very  _ long, and my patience is growing thin.” 

“This is really weird when your cat is attached to me.” 

Cas covers his face with one of his hands and laughs. “God, I’m sorry,” he says, muffled behind his hand. “You’re right, it’s pretty weird.” 

“Is there a way to remove him without risking my life?” 

Cas carefully extracts Simon and shoos him away. “Cat or no cat,” Dean says. “I would feel really weird having sex with you the night you got back from the hospital.” 

“The doctor said I’m clear for all usual activities. Except driving, because of the seizure.” 

“I know, but I’m not cool with it, so you’ll have to be a little more patient.” 

“To confirm,” Cas says, “do you want to have sex with me, just not now, or not ever?” 

“I definitely do. Just not tonight. We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.” 

“Can I still kiss you?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Cas cups Dean’s jaw in his hand and kisses him. Warm and full, and afterwards Cas murmurs, “You’re so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“I’m bald.” 

“It’ll grow back. In the meantime, you’re going to have a cool-ass scar.” 

“I’m hoping for superpowers as well.” 

Dean laughs, feeling bright under Cas’s smile. “Let me know how that goes, baby.” 

Cas won’t actually admit it, but he’s still tired most of the time, so they end up in bed not long after dinner. “You can stay up,” Cas says, for the sixth time, as they’re nose-to-nose, legs tangled. 

It’s disconcerting to feel like he knows Cas so well, but yet Dean has never nuzzled against him in the vast expanse of a warm, comfortable bed. He’s never kissed Cas in the ambient light from the street, sliding his hand underneath his shirt to feel the heat of his skin. 

“I’m pretty happy right here,” Dean says, smiling. 

Cas nods, pets his fingers through Dean’s hair. Moments of silence bleed together, but Dean has the feeling Cas has something to say, so he just waits. 

“I’m scared,” Cas says, barely a whisper. Dean’s chest seizes. 

“I know,” Dean whispers back. “Me too, a little.” 

“But the surgery was successful. Dr. Swender is very competent.” 

“And I’m here to hold back your hair while you puke.” 

Cas closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Dean’s. “You don’t have to.” 

Dean finds Cas’s hand in the dark, weaves their fingers together and squeezes. “I promise I’m gonna anyway.” 

“Thank you,” Cas whispers, breath a little shaky. There’s a soft meow, and then the bed dips on Cas’s side with the weight of a hefty cat. Cas huffs out a watery laugh. “He shows up as soon as I start crying.” 

“I was wondering where he ran off to.” 

“He was probably waiting for the opportune moment to cockblock me again,” Cas says, but he shifts for Simon to climb up on his hip and settle, purring like a motorboat. 

Dean wipes the tears from under Cas’s eyes with his thumbs. “Is he going to share you?” 

“Yes, I think so.” Cas’s breathing is coming a little easier, steadier. 

“Good. I’m not confident I could beat him in a fight.” 

Cas huffs another laugh. “Probably not.” 

“But I  _ am _ gonna fight for you, ok? Cancer’s got nothing on you, me, and Simon.” 

Cas opens his mouth to reply and is interrupted in a yawn. Dean smiles, kisses his forehead. “Get some rest, sweetheart.” 

Dean wakes up more than once through the night with a start, worrying about Cas, but each time Cas is still tucked up against him, breathing deep and slow. 

Dean had missed this the last week without even knowing it in the first place: Cas pressed close against his back, hand low on Dean’s belly, murmuring every now and then in dreams. Dean wonders what he’s dreaming about and, for the first time in his life, really cares about the answer. 

Dean wakes up early and he wakes up for good, some quasi-military bullshit taught by his dad, but he stays in bed with Cas for a long time. He wonders if it’s cruel to think this is the best wake-up ever, considering the circumstances that led them here, then decides he doesn’t care. Maybe someday there will be other wake-ups to be the best ever, mornings where Cas is healthy and not afraid anymore. 

Cas wakes up in phases. First just a little shift, squeezing Dean closer. Swallows, licks his lips, shifts again, makes a soft  _ mmm  _ of happiness under his breath. 

“Good mornin’,” Dean says quietly. 

“Mm,” Cas says again, with a little more purpose. “It is.” 

“Yeah? You feel ok?” 

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a dump truck, but I also woke up with a handsome man in my bed, so things could be worse.”

“Win some, lose some,” Dean says. “You want me to start breakfast?” 

“Not quite. More cuddling.” 

Dean smiles into the pillow. He shouldn’t be so endeared by demanding morning Cas, but he is. He has a ridiculous urge to capture this moment in a picture so he can go back to it later. All he says is, “I’m a great cuddler.” 

“The big spoon does all the work.” 

“There’s no work in cuddling!” Dean says, flipping over under Cas’s arm in distress. “I think you’re doing it wrong.” 

Cas blinks his eyes open at Dean, already grinning. “If the big spoon does their job right, the little spoon finds it to be an effortless experience.” 

“Hug a damn pillow, then,” Dean says, sitting up and whacking Cas with one. “French toast or pancakes?” 

“Chocolate chip pancakes.” 

“All right, your highness.” Dean starts to pull out of bed, but Cas grabs his arm to stop him. 

“You have to be nice to me,” Cas says, very solemnly. “I have a brain tumor.” 

“You have to be nice to me,” Dean says, leaning down to give him a quick kiss, “because I know how to make pancakes.” 

There’s a staredown, and surprisingly, Cas breaks first. “I concede the point.” 

Dean leaves Cas to hug a pillow and gets to work on breakfast. He’s relieved to find that Cas has a normal-ass coffee maker and not something with an entire LCD panel. The coffee is good, and Dean smiles at Cas’s mug collection spanning an entire cabinet. 

Cas shuffles in not too much later, one hand rubbing at one of his eyes and the other reaching up as if to tame hair he realizes too late isn’t there. His hand falls back to his side and Dean can see, even from across the room, the tightening of his jaw and shoulders. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Dean says, risking burned pancakes to kiss him. “I made coffee. You have a lot of mugs.” 

“Ah,” Cas says, flushing. “It became a thing, accidentally. When I found myself packing up and moving two entire boxes full of coffee mugs across the country, I realized things had gone a little too far.” 

“You’re kind of a dork.” 

“You’ve read most of Asimov’s writings so I suggest you keep your judgments to yourself.” 

Dean laughs, kisses Cas again. “Breakfast is almost done. Sit, I’ll make your coffee.” 

“I’m not an invalid.” 

“Obviously, but I’m trying to woo you, so sit down.” 

Cas’s pout disappears as soon as Simon hops into his lap at the kitchen table, and then turns into a smile when Dean delivers his coffee: splash of cream, dash of salt, obscene amount of sugar. 

Once pancakes are on the table and Cas has over-praised Dean’s cooking, Cas pauses and pokes at his pancakes without taking a bite. “I don’t make rash decisions,” he says. “But I — it’s very difficult to imagine my life without you. I want to wake up to you every morning.” 

Dean stares, momentarily speechless. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” 

“Please don’t feel pressured because of my current health situation.” 

“I don’t feel pressured,” Dean says. “I feel lucky.” 

Cas looks up, something that’s almost a smile touching his mouth. “Is that a yes?” 

“Yes,” Dean says. “And you know what? I think this calls for celebratory post-breakfast sex. If you’re still interested.” 

“My attraction to you didn’t vanish overnight.” 

“I’m putting the rest of these pancakes in the fridge. Meet me in bed.” 

Cas’s hand twitches and he swallows. “Do you need help?” 

“You’re an invalid. Go to bed.” 

Cas scowls and smacks Dean on the arm when he passes by. Dean hopes Cas doesn’t see the way he grins in response. 

He’s a neat cook, so clean-up is easy. And quick, thank god, because Dean is fighting against a vivid image of Cas bare and spread out under him. 

Instead, Dean finds Cas sitting in the bed still in his boxers and tee, picking at his nails. Before Dean can ask, Cas looks up at him and says, “After a certain age, people assume you know what you’re doing. With sex. It gets harder and harder to imagine admitting it to anyone and I had decided I was going to try and fake it with you.” 

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, climbing into the bed in front of Cas. “Good sex is a plus, but bad sex or no sex wouldn’t change how I feel about you.” Dean leans closer until he can feel the ghost of Cas’s breath. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do a single thing.” 

“Like you said, I’m an invalid.” 

Dean laughs and then pushes Cas down into the bed with a kiss. Cas might worry about his lack of experience with sex, but he’s a fantastic kisser and has Dean hot all over nearly instantly. When they part, panting, Dean nuzzles against his cheek and says, “Can I suck your cock?” 

Cas’s hands tighten, one on Dean’s hip and one in his hair, and he breathes out slowly. “Do people ever say no to that?” 

“You would be the first, but asking seems polite.” 

Cas smiles, pulls Dean down by the hair to kiss him again. “You have such a pretty mouth,” Cas murmurs. 

Dean blushes as if no one has ever dirty talked about his lips before. But Cas says it different, like it’s one of a million things he likes about Dean and not the prime attraction. “I know some good uses for it.” 

Dean sits back on his heels to pull off his shirt and then Cas’s. Cas is gorgeous, strong and solid, and Dean tries not to imagine what he’ll look like after a couple rounds of chemo and radiation. Still handsome as hell, but thinner and weaker, more tired, more sick. 

Cas’s brow furrows and he tilts his head to the side, like he saw the moment of darkness cross Dean’s face. Dean shakes it off and runs his hands slowly from the top of Cas’s boxers all the way to his shoulders, tracing along his collarbones with his thumbs. 

Cas is holding his breath, but it comes out in a rush when Dean leans back down to kiss his chest, then circles the tip of his tongue around Cas’s nipple. Cas’s back arches when Dean does it again, his hard cock pressing into the line of Dean’s hip. 

Dean told himself that he’ll take it slow, ease Cas into the intimacy of it, but he finds himself rushing, desperate to find out what kind of noises Cas will make while buried into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. He tears himself away so he can work Cas’s boxers off of him and his own cock twitches as he takes Cas in, slowly. 

“Should I be worried that you’re staring?” Cas says, trying for joking but falling flat at the end. 

“If I want to stare at my hot boyfriend, I’m going to stare at my hot boyfriend.” 

Cas’s laugh turns into a gasped moan when Dean licks the head of his cock, and Dean has to reach down to squeeze his own as he takes Cas into his mouth by increments. Cas’s stomach muscles jump under Dean’s other hand, but Dean ends up being the first to moan when Cas jerks on his hair. 

“Oh —  _ oh  _ —” 

Dean can feel Cas spiraling higher so he pulls off to spend time on Cas’s balls, to nip at his hipbones, to leave almost-chaste kisses to the underside of his cock. When Dean glances up, Cas is watching him with his lips parted and cheeks flushed. 

“I can stare at my hot boyfriend if I want,” Cas says, and Dean laughs against his thigh. 

“I ain’t complaining,” Dean says with a cheeky smile, then ducks his head down to say, “And, uh, you can come in my mouth.”

Cas licks his lips, but his voice still comes out raspy. “Ok.” 

Dean gives him a smile, a soft kiss under his bellybutton, and takes is cock into his mouth in a slow, wet slide, all the way until he chokes and has to back off. Cas’s thighs are tight and trembling around Dean’s sides, so Dean forces himself to relax his throat and on the second try, Cas’s cock pops into Dean’s throat. Cas’s hands scrabble, one jerking harshly at Dean’s hair and the other squeezing his shoulder until his nails bite into skin. 

Dean comes back up slow and tight, and on the way back down, Cas’s hips buck up, going deeper into Dean’s throat, and he cries out as he comes. Dean swallows twice and eases off. Cas’s cock is shiny with spit, and the sight makes arousal rage hotter under his skin. 

Dean kisses up Cas’s stomach and chest, then presses his face into Cas’s neck, panting. He wants a kiss, but isn’t sure if Cas would want one. 

“Kiss me?” Cas asks, like Dean would ever say no. 

Dean pushes himself up on his elbow to kiss Cas. Cas makes a soft noise of pleasure when their tongues touch, but he pushes Dean off by the shoulder after only a few kisses. “I want to try.” 

“Jesus christ, yeah,” Dean says, rolling off of Cas and onto his back. His cock tents his boxers obscenely and the blue is darkened to navy where he’s been leaking precome. 

Cas wastes no time stripping off Dean’s boxers and then he just stares for long moments before wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock and giving a loose stroke. Dean gasps, clenches his hands in the sheets, isn’t even embarrassed that he already feels like he’s going to explode. 

Cas’s mouth is heaven. Inexpert but dedicated, and he doesn’t even get far into his experiments before Dean grabs his hand and gasps, “I’m close.” 

Cas sucks at the head of Dean’s cock, tongue pressed tight, his other hand stroking the base. Dean’s whole body shudders when he comes, hard and good. Most of his come leaks out of Cas’s mouth, which is just one of a million images Dean’s going to hold onto for later. 

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean says, and Cas blushes as he lays next to Dean. 

Dean looks down at his own softening cock, come growing tacky on his skin. “Be right back,” he says, giving Cas a quick kiss before getting out of bed. 

Dean’s surprised by what he sees in the mirror. He almost expected himself to be shining with how good he feels, how far he’s fallen for Cas, but he just looks like his regular post-sex self with his abused mouth and rucked up hair. 

Cas is splayed out on the bed, naked and sated on forest green sheets, and Dean’s mouth goes dry to see him. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Dean says. 

“Oh, please.” 

Dean laughs and bounces onto the bed, taking Cas’s hand and weaving their fingers together. They just breathe for a minute, and then Cas says, “That wasn’t what I expected.” 

Dean’s heart skips. “Yeah? Worse or better?” 

“Infinitely better.” Cas laughs, incredulous, and says, “It feels surreal, having you in my bed.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I had a seizure on our third date. But even before that, I assumed you would grow bored with me quickly.” 

“I know you’re a genius, but you’re also an idiot,” Dean says, pulling up Cas’s hand to kiss his knuckles. 

Cas laughs and turns to face Dean, tucking up close to his side. “You have to be nice —” 

“Yeah, yeah, brain tumor.” 

Dean kisses the grin off of Cas’s mouth. 

Dean gets Cas into Dr. Sexy, so Dean works as much as he can with the drama of surgeons in the background for days and days. It’s nice to have Cas close, even if it’s just his foot pressed up against Dean’s thigh. 

Dean buys increasingly stupid hats for Cas to try on, and Cas mostly fakes anger and smacks Dean in the face with them. 

During a lengthy, hot make out session on the couch, Dean’s lips tingling and cock hard against Cas’s, Cas whispers, “I’m in love with you.” 

Dean jerks back to see Cas’s face fully. Cas meets his gaze, but there’s apprehension in his eyes. “Seriously?” 

Cas nods, his jaw tightening. He looks like he’s desperate to escape, if Dean’s body wasn’t covering him. 

“You’re so goddamn amazing,” Dean says. “I would marry you tomorrow if you asked.” 

Cas laughs and it lights up his face. Dean thought he was making a joke, but in that moment he realizes that he really would say yes. Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and says, smiling, “Maybe we’ll save that until I don’t have cancer.” 

“That’s fair,” Dean says. “I’ll buy the rings, ok?” 

Cas squints. “Are you trustworthy for this task?” 

“I’ll get you the biggest diamond you want, baby.” 

Cas is laughing again, and Dean leans down to cover his face in tickling kisses, which just makes him laugh more. “Dean, stop! You’re making it really — stop! — hard to say something sexy.” 

Dean lays a last smacking kiss on Cas’s cheek. “Say what you want to say.” 

“I lost my train of thought. Something about you riding my cock.” 

Dean licks his lips. “In bed?” 

“Yes.” 

“Race ya,” Dean says, jumping up and letting Cas chase him into their bedroom. 

Radiation is bad and chemo is worse. There’s a long time where Cas doesn’t get out of bed except to puke, and around the time he collapses in the kitchen getting a glass of water, he admits that he wouldn’t have been able to take care of himself. Dean just holds him tight, kisses him often, and does what he can to make him smile. 

True to their agreement, Dean waits all the way up until Dr. Swender says  _ congratulations, you’re cancer-free  _ to start shopping for rings. 

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> i'm bad at answering comments but every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days! <3 thank you for being here!


End file.
